


Call Me What You Want

by TastesLikeRain



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Angst and Feels, Diane Sanchez - Freeform, Hugs, M/M, Rick being a dysfunctional asshole uncomfortable with his emotions, the slash is one-sided pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:07:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24990556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TastesLikeRain/pseuds/TastesLikeRain
Summary: “You-you called me Diane.” The boy shuffled his feet awkwardly and looked at the floor.“What? N-n-no, I didn’t.”“Yeah, you did, Rick.” Morty’s voice was a little firmer this time, and although Rick was getting really annoyed with this entire conversation, he couldn’t see any reason for Morty to make this up.Morty reminds Rick of all kinds of things. Rick's never been too comfortable with any of it.
Relationships: Rick Sanchez/Morty Smith
Comments: 10
Kudos: 136





	Call Me What You Want

**Author's Note:**

  * For [epsilonfive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/epsilonfive/gifts).



> A friend wanted a fic where Rick accidentally calls Morty "Diane." 
> 
> Me: during sex or during an argument? 
> 
> Them: BOTH
> 
> This is what I came up with for the latter. Maybe I'll do the other scenario too hehe.
> 
> Thank you to the always lovely [@poysen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poysen) for a quick beta on this!

“Shut the fuck up, and let me work, Diane! Y-y-your pathetic need for constant validation isn’t as important as science. In fact, in the grand scheme of things, your needs are beyond microscopic. Think about a speck of dirt stuck to your shoe. Now think about a tiny insect inside that speck of dirt. Then think about the even smaller vegetation in the belly of that insect, and you’re starting to approach how small your needs are in the hierarchy of the universe.” Rick put the screwdriver down on his workbench and turned around. Why wasn’t Morty saying anything? The little shit had an argumentative streak a mile wide, especially when Rick was putting him down, which was… well, most of the time. “What?! Why are you gaping at me like you forgot how to close your mouth?”

“You-you called me Diane.” The boy shuffled his feet awkwardly and looked at the floor.

“What? N-n-no, I didn’t.”

“Yeah, you did, Rick.” Morty’s voice was a little firmer this time, and although Rick was getting really annoyed with this entire conversation, he couldn’t see any reason for Morty to make this up.

“W-w-well, it’s probably because you were nagging me like a housewife, Morty. You have a tendency to do that. Probably gave me flashbacks to the suffocating married life of my past.” Yeah… that was it. Had to be. The alternative was that he’d called Morty “Diane” because he thought of Morty as—no, not going there. It wasn’t like it hadn’t crossed Rick’s twisted mind more than a few times (more than he’d like to admit, to be honest). But he’d shoved it down, deep into a cobwebbed corner of shame that he didn’t plan on cleaning up and bringing out into the light of day anytime soon. 

“Wh-what was she like, Rick?”

Rick turned back to the project at hand, trying to remember what the fuck he’d been doing. Suddenly, his brain was so fogged that he couldn’t get the synapses to fire properly, no signals traveling to his fingers to jolt them into motion.

“What do you want me to say, Morty? She was a woman. She managed to worm her way into my brain long enough to make me forget what was important, long enough for us to have your mother.”

“I wish she hadn’t died when I was a baby. I-i-it would be nice to just have a memory or two, you know?” Morty sighed and stood next to Rick, leaning an elbow on the bench and resting his little cheek in his hand. He looked absolutely crestfallen, and even though Rick grunted and rolled his eyes, he wasn’t rolling them for the reason Morty thought he was. 

Rick gave a good poker face. The best in the whole goddamn universe. 

No, the real reason for Rick’s irritation was the tug of sympathy he felt for his grandson, the twist of emotion painfully unwinding through his stomach like a corkscrew, shredding every bit of defensive armor he’d built up over the years. He hated himself for giving into it, but every single time he did, he convinced himself it didn’t matter because Morty didn’t detect it. Rick camouflaged every gesture of kindness in layers of sarcasm and impatience. Naked displays of affection were too risky; they would just make the already clingy boy too aware of his power. And a cocky Morty? That was a problem Rick needed like a hole in the head.

But… there was Morty standing next to him, soft and disappointed and vulnerable. Rick silently cursed himself for letting it get to him.

“She was… like you, Morty.”

Morty perked up, his elbow sliding off the table as he lifted his head.

“She was a sentimental pain in my ass who wouldn’t stop bothering me with all her emotional needs while I’m trying to work.”

“Yeah yeah, Rick. I get it.” Morty scowled and turned to leave.

“She would have liked you,” Rick said as he heard the knob of the garage door turning in Morty’s hand. Rick squeezed his eyes shut, his lips twisting into a grimace of regret. He didn’t turn around, grateful that Morty couldn’t see his face.

“R-really?” Morty’s pitch tipped upward, a note of hope in his voice that made Rick’s heart soar. Try as he might to pretend otherwise, it felt good to make Morty happy. He didn’t have to turn around to know exactly what Morty’s face would look like: rosy, cherubic cheeks, his lips turned up at the corners, his eyes just a little brighter than usual.

“Yes, really. You both could have sat around and tagteam annoyed me. I-I’m sorry that you didn’t get the grandparent who wants to bake cookies and listen to your hormonal teenage problems all day, b-b-but she’s dead and I’m the one you have, okay Morty? That’s life. The sooner you learn to deal with it, the better chance you’ll have of not turning out like your aimless, lobotomized father.” Rick gasped as he felt Morty’s arms around his waist, hugging him from behind. 

“I-I’m not sad that I got you, Rick. I’m just sad I didn’t get to know her too. That’s all. B-but I’m  _ really _ glad I have you.”

Rick could feel Morty’s cheek pressed against his back, his little arms squeezing Rick so tightly, his small body flush against him. The comfort Rick felt from Morty’s warmth was flooding every part of him, threatening to wind that dangerous corkscrew yet again. Rick shoved Morty off.

“I told you; I have  _ work _ to do! Either help me or get the fuck out.”

“Okay, sure. Just tell me what you need, Rick.” The chipper compliance in Morty’s voice made Rick heave an exasperated sigh, but it wasn’t for the reason Morty thought it was. 

It was never for the reason Morty thought it was. 


End file.
